neutral in the dispute between the United States and Germany. All day
the campus was in ferment.

At twilight, Ramsey was walking meditatively on his way to dinner at
the "frat house," across the campus from his apartment at Mrs. Meig's.
Everybody was quiet now, both town and gown; the students were at their
dinners and so were the burghers. Ramsey was late but did not quicken
his thoughtful steps, which were those of one lost in reverie. He had
forgotten that spring-time was all about him, and, with his head down,
walked unregardful of the new gayeties flung forth upon the air by great
clusters of flowering shrubs, just come into white blossom and lavender.

He was unconscious that somebody behind him, going the same way,
came hastening to overtake him and called his name, "Ramsey! Ramsey
Milholland!" Not until he had been called three times did he realize
that he was being hailed--and in a girl's voice! By that time, the girl
herself was beside him, and Ramsey halted, quite taken aback. The girl
was Dora Yocum.

She was pale, a little breathless, and her eyes were bright and severe.
"I want to speak to you," she said, quickly. "I want to ask you about
something. Mr. Colburn and Fred Mitchell are the only people I know in
your 'frat' except you, and I haven't seen either of them to-day, or I'd
have asked one of them."

Most uncomfortably astonished, Ramsey took his hands out of his pockets,
picked a leaf from a lilac bush beside the path, and put the stem of the
leaf seriously into a corner of his mouth, before finding anything to
say. "Well--well, all right," he finally responded. "I'll tell you--if
it's anything I know about."